


Dish Washer

by silentwhisper002



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Don't Anger the Beast, F/M, Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lysandre Forgot to Wash the Dishes, Malva is THE Boss Bitch, Saturday Night Entertainment, Vine reference, Was the Dishes Children, literal shitpost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23367943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentwhisper002/pseuds/silentwhisper002
Summary: "Did you wash the dishes?""I thought...you wanted...to do that?""Hm hm hm, you were W R O N G."Or: The real reason behind Lysandre's dream to create a new perfect world.
Relationships: Fleur-de-lis | Lysandre/Pachira | Malva
Kudos: 9





	Dish Washer

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Lams_And_More

It was a quiet Saturday evening in Lumiose City, and Lysandre was sitting near his fireplace, a glass of wine in hand. He was surrounded by the comfort of the black velvet walls accompanied with shelves upon shelves of old research journals.

On nights like these, when there were no last minute calls to be made or blueprints to slaved over, he liked to be left to his own relaxing devices.

Pyroar was curled up on a cushion in the corner next to the intricate mahogany mantel, dozing in the heat. He’d initially let the Pokemon roam for some enrichment, but as per usual, his partner had opted for the bed.

Yes. This was nice time indeed.

Too bad it wasn’t going to last.

While Lysandre sat in the gentle company of his favorite feline, he remained oblivious to the shit storm that brewed on the horizon.

As the head of Team Flare soaked in the silence, an intrusive knock sounded at the door.

Raising an eyebrow, he turned his head in the direction of the soft noise.

“Enter!” 

The large blockade slowly creaked open, revealing a familiar, rose-haired silhouette in it’s wake.

“Ah Malva my dear.”

The Elite Four Member stalked into his presence, fists clenched at her sides. Lysandre began to grow wary with every step she took. Her jaw was firmly set, and the look in her orange eyes told him he was in for something.

She finally stopped a few feet in front of him and took up an agitated stance. “Don’t “ _Malva my dear”_ me Sir.” she growled, irritation evident in the harsh tone that coated her words, “Did you wash the dishes?”

Ever the king of elaborate bullshit, Lysandre wracked his brain for a response. “I thought…you wanted…to do that?”

Wrong answer.

A vicious smile curled onto the woman’s face like an arbok preparing to strike, and a sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Hm hm hm. You were _wrong._ ”

Lysandre’s blue gaze darted back and forth, contemplating a possible escape.

“When I tell you to wash the dishes, I mean _WASH THE FUCKIN DISHES!_ ”

“You know, somewhere out there, there’s a timeline where washing dishes is irrelevant, so by that logic, I don’t have to.” He tried again.

If Malva had found that funny by any means, she most definitely wasn’t showing it.

“WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT LOGIC EVEN IS THAT?!”

“It’s elaborate bullshit.” He stated matter-of-factly, “I rest my case.”

“It’s a lousy excuse is what it is. For Arceus’ sake, it’s soap and water Lysandre! It’s not that hard!”

“I am above soap.”

Malva scoffed at his response. “You’re above _soap?_ ABOVE SOAP?! HOW CAN ANYONE BE ABOVE SOAP?! IT’S A LIFE NECESSITY!”

Lysandre shrugged her off, hoping she’d get the hint that he wasn’t in the mood to be pestered at the moment.

“One more stupid comment like that, and you can sleep outside.” Malva continued her rage, “I mean it.”

“It’s my house?”

“I run it.”

“And what authority made you the captain?”

“Me bitch.”

Lysandre rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

“And as captain of this ship, I demand you wash the dishes.”

“No.”

Malva finally threw her hands in the air out of frustration, muttering inaudible profanities to herself.

“You’re _hopeless_.” she glowered.

“ _You’re_ the one who came in here deciding to argue with _me_.”

Making a face that clearly stated she was wishing for death, Malva turned on her heel and made her way back from where she came.

“Well, when you finally decide to get off your ass and do what I ask for once, I’ll be in our quarters with the blowtorches.”

With that, she exited the room, leaving him contemplating whether she was joking or not. (He was 75% sure she wasn’t)

Tilting his gaze up towards the ceiling, Lysandre rested the back of his head on the dark leather of his chair.

“One of these days,” he grumbled, “There’s going to come about a new world of my own design where I _won’t_ have to wash the dishes.”

As the words left his mouth, an idea suddenly sprung to mind.

Grabbing his communication pager off the glass table next to him, he pressed the small red button. “Get me Xerosic.” He ordered, “It’s time to tear down the old ways, and rebuild the world in my likeness.”

 _“Yes sir,”_ came the robotic response.

Oh yes. It was time for Team Flare to rise up and build a new, perfect world order.

“Fuck the dishes, I’m the captain now.”


End file.
